Sacrifice
by loveretriever
Summary: Regulus Arcturus Black is no hero. But he does something heroic, even if he's not remembered properly for it except by a house-elf no one else adores. Reg is a hero whose story deserves to be told. This is my take on it. Rated for safety. No pairing - written for a prompt


(Full title: Sacrifice: The Last Act of a Non-Hero)

Special thanks to the guest reviewers. Yes, in my various edits, I accidentally switched the words "Legilimency" and "Occlumency." Regulus believes the pure-blood supremacy nonsense, which is why he joined the Dark Lord. However, I added in the bit about his being a house-elf rights person because that's the only plausible explanation I could come up with for why he switched sides. Plus, he's not all too keen on fighting (being noted that he's smaller than Sirius.) So yeah. If you don't like my reasons, write your own :)

All excerpts below, except the very last part, have been collected by Kreacher from the diary of Regulus Arcturus Black between the years 1976-1979.

Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry forum - Care of Magical Creatures, Assignment #4

Prompt: Write about a character or creature that is a guiding light for another character. Extra prompts: worthless, surprisingly, Mark, play.

Word count: 8025

* * *

There are many words to describe the Black family. Pureblood. Cunning. Self-important. Rich.

The best, and most fitting word, is tradition, which means self-preservation and upholding family values.

The motto of the Black family fits this description entirely. Toujours pur. "Always pure." We pride ourselves on our blood purity and our ancestral link to the wizards in the Middle Ages. I know that we aren't entirely pure of blood. No one really is, not today. But Mum insists it's the tradition. And there the foot comes down.

I have been raised to uphold the Black family values. To honour the purity of our heritage. The indomitable Mrs. Walburga Black has seen to my education on that point.

However, my brother doesn't see eye to eye with the family on the issue.

\- January 1976 -

"Sirius," I say, bringing him aside the morning before we depart. "Why must you quarrel with Mum again?" Our vacation here in Wales is over. We are soon to go back to Hogwarts and still all Sirius can do is fight with Mum. 'Screaming matches' is a good description for their arguments.

Sirius shrugs me off. "Why should she care what friends I have? I don't want to stay indoors. I want to play Quidditch with the other kids." He gazes sullenly out the window at the Quidditch Pitch erected out in the fields. I look with him and see many children flying their brooms back and forth, laughing and having fun. A pang of longing strikes my heart. At school, I play Seeker for Slytherin. Sirius is one of Gryffindor's Beaters. It makes us laugh that in House and position, among other things, we're always opposites.

"We are not like those other kids," I point out, sensibly enough, pushing my own thoughts aside.

Sirius flies into a rage. "Regulus, what do you mean? We are just like them. We have magic. We go to the same school, Reg. Ugh!" He groans and holds his head in his hands. I stay rooted to the spot and patiently wait for his next outburst. It's sure to come soon. Sirius, like Mum, has quite a temper.

Suddenly, Sirius looks up. He's shaking his head at me now, laughing at me. I enjoy the lightened atmosphere for all it's worth. It's been ages since we've had fun together. It used to be just me and Sirius. Sirius and Reg. Now, it's Sirius and his friends.

I don't begrudge my brother his own company. But sometimes, I miss the older brother who always used to look after me. Sometimes, I miss having our late night chats by the fire. Especially when Kreacher would make us hot chocolate. Those are fond memories. One time, we drank so much hot chocolate, we woke up with chocolate smears all around our mouths. Mum yelled at us to get ready, but all we could do was laugh at how silly we both looked. I pointed at Sirius, and he pointed at me as we collapsed into fits of giggles. Mum was mad we made her fifteen minutes late. It was so worth it.

Now, I miss having the one person in my life whom I trust above all others. I instinctively know that our brotherly bond is slowly breaking. Soon, it will snap altogether.

\- February 1976 -

Sirius is a model student. He's good at every subject. He's learned advanced magic and, even though he's only a fifth year, he's made up some spells himself. At sixteen, all the girls love him. Sirius got all the good looks in the family, or so Mum said. When we were younger, Sirius said I'd grow up and take the prize as a run-away first. I laugh now just as much as I did then. Professor Slughorn, my Head of House, may cherish me as Slytherin's prized Seeker, but I know girls don't trail after me. I'm not handsome. Girls pine over Sirius and company.

Although we may not act like it, Sirius and I are in fact very close. Strictly on the hush-hush, I've made the Unbreakable Vow with Sirius twice. The first time was last year, when he showed me his completed Animagus form. I assume he's unregistered, though he hasn't told me whether he is or not. I'm sure his Head of House would have mentioned something if he was registered. She's very proud of Sirius, and justly so.

I still can't believe that my brother was running around last year as a part-time dog. He looks just like the textbook pictures of the Grim: a big black dog, a shadowy form. I find it ironic that my brother's Animagus is the symbol of Death and misfortune. I've told Sirius about my uneasiness regarding his Animagus form and the symbolism behind black dogs in general. But Sirius laughs at me and calls me a "believer of old wives' tales."

"Oh Reg," he claps me on the back, "you never fail to amuse me." Sirius clutches his side as he tries to hold in his laughter. Finally, he collects himself. "You worry too much about superstition. Just think of all the possibilities." I refuse to even consider his words.

My only victory is that Kreacher, our family house-elf, takes to me more than Sirius. On many occasions I've tried to tell Sirius about my interest in house-elf rights. But Sirius doesn't understand me. He's all high and mighty about Muggles and Squibs. Well, I'm all high and mighty about house-elves and other creatures' rights. Sirius just stares at me like I'm off my rocker. Once again, we are opposites. We're both blood traitors, but our interests are on opposite ends of the spectrum.

I hug Sirius fondly, causing him to flush in embarrassment. It's about the only thing I can do, as the younger brother.

"Your goal in life must be to embarrass me," he murmurs, slightly touched by my affectionate mood.

"And yours is to stir up trouble," I reply, not letting go.

"Touche, little brother."

We stand there in silence.

It's a good memory, one I remember vividly.

The second time I made the Unbreakable Vow was quite recently. Sirius told me of his intent to fight the Dark Lord to the death. He's already declared himself against the family. He urged me to do the same, to not follow in the footsteps of our fathers. I smile sadly and tell him it's my duty, as the only other son, to support the family if he becomes a deserter. Sirius grudgingly agrees, though he calls me "soft in the head." I know it's an affectionate reference.

I love my brother for all the world. But here, we part ways. He's to go on to fame and glory. I shall stay the traditional route and serve our family as tradition demands. I know my brother will be a hero. He's already my hero. I, no doubt, will live on in quiet respectability.

\- Summer 1976 -

Mum greets us at King's Cross Station. She looks as grim as ever and says nothing to Sirius.

Two days later, surprisingly, Sirius' trunks are packed. Whether they've ever been unpacked or not, I don't know.

"Did you fight with Mum again?" I ask. I've been busy meeting other pure-blood families strictly on business for Mum. Consequently, I haven't been at home much since our return from Hogwarts.

Sirius yawns and shakes his head. "I have always been fighting Mum. I will always fight the chains of this family." For a moment, he looks fondly at me. He leans over and rubs my head like he used to when we were little. "You're a good sort, Reg. Don't be a Hufflepuff and buy into promised pipe dreams. They all come to naught, anyway." With that cryptic remark, and a final wave, Sirius leaves the house.

We all see him off, standing there in the doorway like idiots long after his shadow's gone. Sirius can't Apparate, but since we're in the heart of London, there's no need for Apparition anyway.

Mum's furious. She races off to burn a hole where Sirius' name is - was - on the family tapestry. Then, she cries. For days. I can hear her at night until I place several Silencing charms around my room. It takes me awhile to do so. I'm not as good as Sirius at Charms, but finally I get the hang of it.

That is the start of the saddest summer I've ever had. No Sirius means no fun at all.

Mum's been foisting me into pure-blood society more than ever since Sirius' departure. Already, she's making friends with those associated with the Dark Lord. I detest being in this society, as several members are quite scary in person. One such person is Lucius Malfoy, an arrogant, intimidating man. Another is my cousin, Bellatrix Black. She's engaged to an equally rough fellow by name of Rodolphus Lestrange. They're quite odd together. I've known Bellatrix all my life. She's a passionate, energetic woman full of life. Rodolphus appears lethargic and devoid of any emotion - in fact, Bellatrix's polar opposite. It's rumoured they've been engaged for three years. I think there must be some attraction to keep the couple together.

I hear Sirius' voice in my head. "You're just dreaming, Reg. No pure-blood arranged marriages come with attraction." I smirk at him. He's still snarky, even in my mind. Maybe I'm the mental one, I think wryly, laughing at myself.

"Hullo, Reggie," Rabastan says in a friendly manner, coming to stand near me. He is drinking wine and eating what looks like grapes, but could equally be some horrid upper-class delicacy. Food is not my strong point.

"Hullo, Rabbie," I respond in kind. He's a good friend of mine about my age. Seeing Rabastan brightens my day.

"Didn't expect to see you here," Rabastan says pleasantly. It's an old joke. Everyone knows how much I hate small talk and high society functions.

"Yeah, well, I'm here. Happy?" I say scathingly. We, neither of us, take offense.

Rabastan laughs heartily. That's why I like him. He's the most human pure-blood I've met by far.

"You're in good humour," I comment.

"Roddy finally tied the knot," Rabastan wriggles his eyebrows knowingly. We pure-bloods love weddings, funerals and births.

"Which means?" I ask, knowing the answer.

"I get the best room!" Rabastan is so silly sometimes. "Mum and Da bought Roddy and Bella a house way out in the country. Actually, Bella requested a place that's near Malfoy Manor. I wonder..." Rabastan stuffs his face with food. He is a messy eater with no regard for proper pure-blood propriety.

"There's talk that Narcissa Black is soon to be married to Lucius Malfoy. I think he will propose in two days," I say carelessly. I try hard to avoid seeing Rabastan's face. He's the most disgusting person I know.

"Aha!" Rabastan's eyes light up. He nods and proceeds to talk through a mouth full of food. "Those sisters were always thick as thieves. Until Andromeda..." Rabastan whispers the name, letting his voice trail off mysteriously. There's no need for theatrics. I already know the story. After all, the tapestry is in my house.

"Yes. Quite." I drift away, already tired of pure-blood society. I fervently hope the Dark Lord's company is better than this. Gossip, chatter and intricate delicacies are not my forte.

\- October 1976 -

I have seen Sirius around school. He's always traveling with his friends. We trade glances, but never talk. Ever since June, we have dropped all correspondence. Instead, we trade messages that neither can decode. It only means that this is the end. We are approaching the point at which we can no longer turn back. Sooner or later, I know in my heart, we will be on opposing sides. Our brotherhood, officially, is over. Now, I have only my memories to console me in the darkest hours of the night. I lay awake for hours and wonder if there is a way things could have been different.

I struggle through my classes. Days pass into weeks. And soon, before I know it, I have forged new friendships that whisk away all thought of my beloved brother.

Rabastan Lestrange and others from my House have approached me. They talk when Slughorn isn't looking. I am infatuated and wish for pure-blood supremacy only because then I'd have power. I might become influential enough to get house-elves their proper rights. I become caught up in the cares and worries of the upper class. I become the things I hate most.

(I admit now that, in hindsight, I was greatly deluded by the joys and victories of the Dark Lord. I was a mere foolish lad at fifteen. However, I do not for a second believe that Sirius was right, either. Both of us, both brothers, were led astray by powerful wizards who claimed their interests were "for the greater good." I curse the "greater good" and whoever it was who coined that term. It is a hateful way to take away the claims of murder and instead blame a nameless entity unreachable by the hands of justice.)

I don't know why Slughorn is such a threat, but he is a man I respect. A great man. My new friends tell me of Slughorn's loyalty to Dumbledore. I'm not so sure about that, but I agree to stay alert. What harm could befall me, anyway?

\- March 1977 -

I am now sixteen. As expected, I take the Mark. There is a big celebration over the weekend at my family home. Mum is so proud of me.

The tattoo, for there is no other word for the dark snake on my left forearm, stung incredibly, burning my arm. As a sign of pride, I shed no tears. But it hurt so much. I'd never wish this on anyone. It's a fate worse than death. Eternal servitude to the Dark Lord, Our Saviour and Infinite Master.

I can only imagine what Sirius would say. What he would look like. For a brief moment, I am glad he is spared this torture.

But soon, thoughts of my brother are pushed out of mind when I see my new friends. My new family. My new home. The Dark Lord's Inner Circle.

They welcome me, the new lamb, to the fold with open arms and chilling smiles that don't reach their eyes. Their masks intimidate me. Somehow, I feel even lonelier than before. I recognize no faces with the masks on. Unmasked, each Death Eater seems a sinister shadow, like the stuff of children's nightmares. I desperately wish Sirius was here with me.

Then I recall that soon, I, too, shall be wearing a mask. I shiver. If I die on the battlefield, will Sirius ever recognize me? I feel my body grow cold at that thought. I hope I never see him in battle so he can be spared that task of hunting through lifeless masks looking for me.

(I would not know for a long time that Sirius would be spared this task. However, it was a thought that long haunted me.)

Almost as soon as I am initiated, I have doubts about the Dark Lord. Why are all these people preparing for war?

\- Summer 1977 -

I meet the Dark Lord for the first time. He is a charming man. Handsome. Brilliant. Everything I've longed to be. The Dark Lord reminds me of my personal hero, Sirius. He and Sirius have so much in common, it pains me.

I can hardly meet m'Lord's eyes, something he loves about me. My Lord believes me to be a servile youth, a ready and willing participant.

If Sirius were here, he would scoff at the Dark Lord and laugh at me. Me, Regulus Arcturus Black, the skinny, short youth, a ready and willing participant to murder? I squirm a little as the Dark Lord bears down upon me. I am not fond of blood.

Somehow, the Dark Lord is satisfied by his inspection. He commands me to look at him. I do so. He gazes into my eyes and I feel like he is searching my soul. For some reason, my mind has gone blank. I have thoughts only of blood purity and servitude. At the time, I did not know the Dark Lord was performing Legilimency upon me.

Later, Rabastan explains to me that much of the Dark Lord's power comes from his use of Legilimency, entering other people's minds, and the Dark Arts. I gathered that my Lord was not a very physical man, despite his seemingly muscular build.

After that encounter, I'm determined to learn everything I can about Legilimency. I enlist Kreacher's help in obtaining books on the subject. I also ask Kreacher to help me in my endeavours by allowing me to practice on him. Of course, the pet assents. I assure him that if it hurts, he is to let me know. The poor thing barely cries out, although it must hurt the first time I enter his mind successfully.

Kreacher is an excellent house-elf. Devoted, loving, a good soul. He's everything I could have asked for in a best friend. He's the second brother I never had. I would trust Kreacher with my life. I wish people like Sirius and Mum didn't devalue house-elves as worthless beyond their servitude.

I finally master Legilimency and have just started Occlumency, a way to shield the mind from invasion, when August ends. It's time to go back to school. I make Kreacher promise to practice with me when I return for the winter holidays.

\- Fall 1977 -

Professor Slughorn senses something different about his Snakes. But he refuses to ask and we don't enlighten him. It's better left unsaid anyway. After all, the unspoken Slytherin motto of self-preservation still holds, whether you're eleven or forty.

Slughorn's a dear. As a member of the Slug Club, his precious little gathering of fifth, sixth and seventh year students, I'm invited to parties and dinners. I'm distinguished as the Slytherin Quidditch Captain, although I know this is only Slughorn's pride over Professor McGonagall. As this is Sirius and company's last year, McGonagall will lose her prized Seeker and next year Slytherin is sure to win the Quidditch Cup.

Narcissa writes me to say the Dark Lord is laying low for now. I've noticed the number of attacks and reported disappearances in the Daily Prophet have also decreased and become less frequent. I see the Dark Lord has learnt caution. Already, his name, Lord Voldemort, is whispered in certain circles with a mixture of fear and awe. If he were to expose himself too early, it could mean utter defeat. The situation has now become a tactics game, like cat and mouse.

Narcissa's letter runs something like this: "Cousin, I bid you not to bring any attention to our Lord. He is biding his time for now, gathering more followers before he launches his attack. I implore you to keep a low profile for your own sake." There are several more lines, written in the formal pure-blood manner, that are so boring I shan't take the time to rewrite them here.

At the bottom of the letter, a tiny hand has scrawled the words, "I miss you and my other cousin, Sirius, very much. I remember you both fondly." A signature, "Narcissa," is neatly signed.

Dearest Cissy is, as usual, so innocent. No doubt she slipped that last line in for my eyes only. I wonder briefly if anyone reads over her correspondence. Probably Lucius. He's a jealous fool. The Dark Lord doesn't care for Cissy as she isn't a Death Eater. I fancy Cissy recoiled from the tattoo and doing physical work. She's a slight, fairy-like creature prone to being allergic to manual labour. Hmmph, how convenient for her.

I smile at that last mental comment. I sound like I'm channeling Sirius! Although we both joke about Narcissa's character, we're fond of her, too. She's the only Black with a pure conscience and an innocent mind.

\- December 1977 -

Mum's happy I'm home for the holidays. Although she and Da are here, they're alone most of the time and don't always get along. I don't know how my quiet father and Mum, who's loud as a banshee, have ever coexisted under the same roof.

I notice that Da has increased the security on the house. I don't bother asking as I can sense his increased anxiety. I don't need to be a Seer to know the Muggle repellent charms and anti-Apparition spells are stronger now than ever. There's also a few added charms around the house for protection against spell damage. I hope that nothing happens to Mum and Da while I'm gone. Neither are Death Eaters, but their sentiments in favour of the Dark Lord are well-known in the wizarding community.

\- January 1978 -

I receive a communication from Narcissa hinting that Lucius has put in a good word on my behalf to the Dark Lord. Apparently, Lucius and Bella are the Dark Lord's most trusted servants. From Cissy's account, it appears that upon graduation, the Dark Lord may have a task for me. I am honoured and reply to Cissy immediately, indicating my flattered state of mind. I am pleased to have been favoured as both Lucius and Bella are several years older than me, and consequently never knew me at school.

My vanity appeased, I arrive back at Hogwarts in happy spirits.

\- Summer 1978 -

Although Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup thanks to their brilliant Seeker, Potter, Ravenclaw wins the House Cup. It's a bitter blow, considering we beat them 310-20 in Quidditch. However, as Slughorn reminds me, there is always next year. I still can't face Grant, the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain, so I leave the Great Hall as soon as possible.

I'm glad I won't have to see Grant's stuffy face next year. But his graduation also means Sirius and company will be gone, too. I'm greatly saddened by this revelation. Next year will be the first time without Sirius in my life at all. It's fitting that it shall also be my last year, I decide.

The last day of school is the last time I see Sirius. If only I had known, I might have said something. I might have done something, left a lasting impression of brotherly camaraderie or shown our last act of brotherly love before we parted and took up our positions on opposite sides. War loomed on the horizon, taunting us. So instead, I did nothing.

\- Fall 1978 -

I'm taking N.E.W.T. levels in Potions, Transfiguration, Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts. I also elect to take Astronomy, Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures as well.

At the end of September, I hold Quidditch tryouts. I replace half the team, the Beater and two Chasers who have graduated. We play well in our first match against Gryffindor, winning 210-50. Not bad, considering Potter's replacement isn't great, but the new Gryffindor Chasers are excellent.

Lucius and Narcissa send me an owl towards the end of November inviting me to Malfoy Manor for the winter holidays. I inform Mum and then reply, accepting the invitation.

\- Winter 1978-1979 -

Malfoy Manor is a huge estate. I'm received cordially by Lucius, Narcissa and Bellatrix. We have tea and they urge me to stay for dinner.

Bellatrix's husband arrives. Rodolphus is a fellow I have come to admire, though it's a fearful admiration. I'm scared he can kill me. The man's dark and deranged enough to explode at any time. But he's a tolerable chap with a smart head and nice manners when he tries. Rodolphus also happens to be my best Death Eater friend's brother. I ask politely about Rabastan and we go on to converse about Hogwarts, future careers, prospective wives. The usual pure-blood conversations. There are no mentions of the Dark Lord. No talk of war. This is strictly a social call that's meant as a test.

At the end of dinner, Narcissa stands and politely extends a summer invitation to me. I bow and say, in perfect fashion, I shall have to think about the invitation. I explain that my father wants to take me away with him to celebrate my upcoming graduation. This excuse is accepted as a perfectly plausible thing, although I find Cissy and Bella eyeing me strangely.

Upon my brief return home, I inform my parents. Mum is elated and pushes me to accept. Da is reticent. He misses having his sons with him.

In January, I write Narcissa and accept her summer invite for a week. She replies amenably and preparations are made.

\- Spring 1979 -

My last term at Hogwarts has arrived so quickly. I have no idea how time has condensed itself. The months seem to fly by so fast now that, when I reflect, it seems like just yesterday I first arrived at Hogwarts.

Under my captaincy, Slytherin wins the Quidditch Cup. Coincidentally, we are in the lead to win the House Cup, too. I'm delighted and I see Slughorn at the head table, toasting me with a smile.

\- Summer 1979 -

I graduate from Hogwarts with honours. I'm now an adult wizard, ready to face the world. Everything happens so quickly. Soon enough, I board my final train home.

My parents greet me happily, excited by my graduation. They make a big fuss about my first day as an adult wizard. We travel around continental Europe for a week, my celebratory vacation. Upon our return, I have two days before I'm packing my trunk again.

My visit at Malfoy Manor lasts for a week, as prearranged. On the last day, Narcissa invites me to a country retreat. I understand and follow her lead, Apparating with Bella.

The Death Eater meeting in July is small. Lord Voldemort has called a small handful of loyal servants to hand out tasks to. His various lieutenants and most trusted servants receive their tasks first. Then, he turns his toothy smile to the rest of us sheep. He calls for the use of someone's house-elf.

Immediately, I volunteer. Bella and Narcissa had told me it would be good if I volunteered for a task. It would show the Dark Lord my loyalty to his cause. Lucius cautioned me to only volunteer for lower-level tasks. He said that anything else would either cause the Dark Lord to Crucio me for insubordination, or I would die trying to complete a task far beyond my level. I took Lucius' advice to heart and believed the house-elf was a lower task.

Lord Voldemort smiled, a wicked sight. He seemed happy with my cooperation.

"Good, good," he hissed, his large snake slithering around his feet. "Come with me and we shall discuss the terms. The rest of you are dismissed." He waved his hand and everyone else Disapparated.

I walked with Lord Voldemort to an antechamber. There, he gave me food and drink, "for my loyal servant," he said. I saw through the ruse. He was going to pump me for information.

I told him about Kreacher, his loyalty to the House of Black and the Black family. His insistence upon pure-blood supremacy. The Dark Lord was pleased.

"Very well. I shall need him in two week's time. It should only take a day. Will that be suitable?" The Dark Lord's red eyes glared at me in challenge.

I acquiesced, though I said I should have to clear the exact date with my mother, as she often arranged the dates when Kreacher needed to be in attendance.

"Very well. Inform Bella of the day and she will tell me when you're ready. Bring your house-elf to Malfoy Manor."

And with that, I was dismissed.

* * *

I explained the task to Kreacher quite simply.

"Kreacher, I have a task for you."

"Yes, Master Regulus," the house-elf bowed, nose scraping the ground.

"I am a servant of the Dark Lord and he asked for a house-elf to aid him in a task. Will you do me the favour of serving the Dark Lord? 'Tis an honour, you know, to serve the Master of Pure-blood Supremacy." I tried to honey my words in order to persuade Kreacher. Needless to say, Kreacher was slightly nervous.

"And what does his Royal Master need a lowly house-elf for?" Kreacher wondered.

"I have no idea, but he said it was only for a day. Please say you'll do it, Kreacher. It would boost my standing considerably and I'm sure you'll come to no harm. You will go with the Dark Lord, do his bidding, and then return straight home at the end of the day." I tried to soothe the creature's fears by giving him direct orders.

After a slight moment's hesitation, Kreacher bowed and assented. "As the young Master wishes."

I talked with Mum about the situation. She took even less time, agreeing at once with my demands.

"Whatever the Dark Lord wishes, dear," she said carelessly.

And just like that, easy as Lumos, so the saying goes, everything was settled accordingly.

The two weeks pass quickly. Kreacher and I meet the Dark Lord at Malfoy Manor, which seems more and more to me like the headquarters for the Death Eaters. I would learn later that this was more or less the truth.

The Dark Lord takes Kreacher's hand and the two Disapparate, leaving me alone in the foyer.

I take tea with Narcissa. Lucius is out on some errand given to him by the Dark Lord. Bellatrix and Rodolphus are trying for a son, I am told, though I can hardly imagine a pregnant Bella. Narcissa hopes in a year to have a child of her own.

In the early evening, when it's socially acceptable, I take my leave and return home.

Later that night, Kreacher returns with a loud crack! I jump out of bed, startled to find Kreacher in my room.

Without speaking or using my wand, I light several torches. At once, it's evident that Kreacher is injured and, my faculties restored, I realize he's babbling some hysterical nonsense.

I fire-call Narcissa and Rabastan in my panic. While waiting for a response, I go downstairs and hunt around for potions. On my return, I see Rabastan's face in the fire. I tell him the problem - that my house-elf looks injured and is babbling incoherent sentences. I tell him I need potions and no healer will see a house-elf. I can pay and will pay handsomely.

Rabastan rubs his head before saying he knows a man. He will make the contact and see if he can help. I thank Rabbie and apologize for the late call. Rabastan waves me away, or as much as he can through a fire.

After several agonizing moments of dashing back and forth between minding the fire and tending Kreacher, Rabastan returns. He tells me about Spinner's End and a young man, a fellow Death Eater, named Severus Snape. He's a young Potions Master, a trustworthy though snide man whose callous temperament is legendary. I don't heed Rabastan's words, but I thank my friend heartily.

Rabastan cautions me, "Do not thank me yet. I can't say if he will accept your case." I nod wearily and the fire goes out.

I gather up Kreacher's frail body in my arms and Apparate to Spinner's End. I don't want to think about my task in case I lose my nerve.

I knock on the door and a tall, skinny youth answers. His long black hair hangs limply on either side of his face. His cold dark eyes take in my appearance. After a moment, he allows me to enter, although he says hardly a word. I explain who I am and he holds up a hand.

"Rabastan told me." I faintly remember Severus as being in my brother's year, but no other details of this strange, cold man come to mind.

I place Kreacher on the table indicated and step back, allowing Snape to work in peace. I watch, fascinated, as Snape concocts the most fantastic potions, half of which I've never even heard of in my life.

Finally, Kreacher is silent and the bleeding has stopped. I feel Kreacher's body tentatively. He is sleeping peacefully. I turn to Snape and thank him gratefully, extending my arm in goodwill.

Snape merely grunts and shakes me off. He's quite a dismal fellow, but charitable towards certain people in need. I offer my services for his sacrifice in saving my poor house-elf. Snape declines, telling me there's no need for aristocratic chivalry. I tell him I'm fond of house-elves and that I regard Kreacher as a brother. For the first time, Snape's mouth quirks into what I assume to be a smile, though it's closer to a smirk. It appears I'm not the only one who's fond of house-elves.

\- September 1979 -

I am furious with the Dark Lord. While I was never fond of the whole Death Eater thing from the start, (really, I find the mask thing creepy,) I'm not resolved to fight the Dark Lord. How dare he trick me into hurting my house-elf. How dare he value a house-elf's life as beneath another's. Poor Kreacher tries to console me and keep me from doing something rash.

"You did not know, Master. I is sorry," the poor elf lamented, time and time again.

I made Kreacher tell me the full tale, and what he said gave me enough insight to know what the Dark Lord had planned.

"I can only be happy in that my orders saved you, although had I not been blinded by pride, this would never have occurred." I stress how the blame is mine and mine alone.

Kreacher waves me away. "'Tis not your fault, Master. You are kind to poor old Kreacher. You are just like your father, a good, strong wizard."

Kreacher falls asleep and I retreat to plot my revenge. I know Kreacher, if ordered, can return me to the Cave. He has seen what the Dark Lord has done, so I've no doubt at all that I can easily reach the place where I believe Lord Voldemort has stored his horcrux. If my suspicions are correct, the Dark Lord believes that Kreacher is dead. Snape will not reveal me, believing that both Kreacher and I are unimportant. Besides, if what I've heard is correct, Snape is plotting his own revenge on those who've wronged him. I have a slight inkling his list includes the Dark Lord in all his scaliness.

Having now understood my position, I start planning on how to fabricate a substitute. I hunt around for books on the legend of Salazar Slytherin. I stumble upon one detailing the locket in question. Perfect! I can't describe how long it takes me to figure out a spell to change a locket I have picked up into the likeness of Slytherin's locket.

Finally, I succeed in crafting a double. My final touch is a note scrawled on a scrap of parchment. I sign it, "R.A.B." and place inside the locket. I deduce correctly that the Dark Lord will know exactly who it is, if he ever discovers my treachery.

\- October 1979 -

My father, the honourable Orion Black, has passed away. He died in his sleep without struggle.

I love my father, but I'm a man, I suppose. And men don't cry. My father wouldn't want that. Not in public.

My only regret is Sirius doesn't attend the funeral. Da would have wished for the two of us to carry him into his tomb. Instead, I alone bear the burden, along with three distant cousins. It breaks my heart, but nothing would make Sirius return. It doesn't help that any owl I send comes back, message undelivered.

Mum hasn't come out for five days. The portrait of Da hangs in their - no, her - bedroom. While Mum is grieving, I take the opportunity to set my plan in motion. With the substitute locket complete with note ready, I summon Kreacher.

"Kreacher," I call. The house-elf immediately appears at my side.

"Yes, Master," Kreacher bows, knowing what I am about to ask of him.

"Are you ready?" I ask. Kreacher nods. "Are all the preparations made?" Kreacher shows me the various notes, documents and messages I have prepared.

I shake my head, satisfied. "Good. Send them off via owl." Kreacher races to do as I command. When he returns, I look around me once more, memorizing Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Memorizing my home. I have a strange feeling I may not see this place again for a long time. I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what I am about to do. With my locket in one hand, I grab Kreacher's arm with the other.

"Kreacher, obey every order I give you, even if you disagree with it."

"Yes, Master."

"I mean it, Kreacher." He looks at me and understands the gravity of the situation. "You must do everything I tell you for your own sake. I won't let any harm come to you, understand?" Kreacher shakes visibly, but nods his sad little head. Already, I see his eyes misting. I shake him to snap him out of misery. "No, Kreacher, you and I are both coming back from this alive, okay? You hear me? We are going to make it. But you must do everything I command because the last thing I want is the Dark Lord coming after the Black family." This time, my words work. Kreacher's had servitude drilled into his tiny little brain for decades. His spine straightens noticeably and he stops trembling at the mention of the Black family honour.

"Yes, Master, I shall do as you say," Kreacher says, no longer mumbling. "I live to serve the Black family and uphold the family honour."

I smile and indulge the small elf one last time. "Very good, Kreacher. Now, take me to the Cave."

* * *

With a faint pop, Kreacher and I arrive at the Cave. It's not a very good description, I'm afraid, but the cave is situated in a cove that sits like an island of rock in the ocean. That's the best way I can describe it. I smell the sea air, I see the small waves lapping against the stone. What's missing are the animal sounds. There's nothing for what seems like miles.

I resolve myself to turn back to the stone wall. Kreacher tells me how to enter the cave. Transfiguring a small rock into a knife, I make the jagged cut. Stifling screams as best as I can, I hold my shaky arm out and let the blood flow into the cave wall. Miraculously, it opens. Of course, it should open. After all, that is exactly what Lord Voldemort did before. However, I always doubt things will work for me. So I'm always surprised when they do.

We enter the cave and I feel a creepy, sinister presence. I tell myself it's just my imagination, but is it? Kreacher, too, feels something evil lurks here. He walks around the edge of the water, not daring to touch the liquid. He finds the spot he's looking for and points. I raise my hand and a boat rises out of the water.

"Good, Kreacher," I say, patting the house-elf as if to reassure him. I try not to let Kreacher know I'm really reassuring myself. "Now what?"

Kreacher points. He doesn't need words because I immediately spot a circle of stone set into the middle of the lake. Ah, that's our destination. I nod to show I've seen what Kreacher wants me to see and we board the boat. With one tap of my wand against the side, the boat moves forward, needing no one to steer it in the right direction.

We reach the center of the lake and step onto the stone. There, in the middle, I see a cauldron and a dipper. Kreacher doesn't need to tell me what to do. My mission is clear: I must drink this cauldron down to the bottom in order to perform the switch. What will happen then, I don't know. The last time Kreacher was here, he came back half-crazed. I may not be as strong.

For some reason, I picture Sirius' face and I feel stronger. Sirius smiles at me approvingly, as if driving me forward. With a smile on my face, I pick up the dipper and start drinking. Yes, mind-Sirius seems to say, I'm doing the right thing.

Dipper after dipper of liquid pours down my throat. It tastes strange. It's some potion - definitely not water. After a quarter of the cauldron is gone, I feel delirious. I reach for anything. Kreacher holds my head straight as I drink again and again. When the cauldron is half-full, I feel thirsty. Kreacher prevents me from going to the lake. He holds the dipper for me while I drink. With the cauldron down to the last quarter, I cry out, thrashing about. I have no idea what I say or do. Eventually, I don't know how, Kreacher manages to pour the remaining potion down my throat.

Kreacher hands me a handkerchief and tries to soothe me. He is too afraid of the water, knowing what lies beneath the murky, deceptive surface. I, in my delirium, forget and try to scramble towards the lake. Twice, Kreacher prevents me. Ultimately, I'm not entirely satisfied. Abandoning my attempts, I sit up and peer down at the cauldron. There, at the bottom, lies Slytherin's locket. I take out the horcrux and place my substitute copy inside the cauldron. Immediately, the cauldron is refilled. It spooks me how quickly the refill spell works.

I turn around, ready to call the boat back. But the boat is nowhere in sight. I wave my hand, my wand, I try every spell I know.

Nothing happens.

I hand the horcrux locket to Kreacher, telling him to take it. He shakes his head, afraid of the locket. I can feel a terrible power humming inside the locket, but I need Kreacher to get it out of here.

"Kreacher!" I yell, unable to hear anything but the locket's unnatural call, "Take the locket and Apparate to Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Hide the locket somewhere safe, then return to me. This is an order, understand?"

Kreacher, given a direct order he can't refuse, nods his sad head, grabs the locket, and Disapparates with a crack!

Alone for the moment, I shake my head and rub my ears, ridding them of that awful high-pitched noise. I then look around me and panic. Shapes are coming out of the water. Odd, disturbing shapes. These must be the Inferi Kreacher spoke of. I have no idea how to fight one, let alone an army, of Inferi.

I brandish my wand and start casting every light, fire and protective spell I know. Fiendfyre seems to work for the moment. Although known for consuming its caster despite the wizard's skill level, the demon-fire and my protective charms keep the Inferi at bay for now.

With the Inferi suitably distracted, I try Apparating. I fail - blocked somehow. I curse. I'm trapped here. I panic, and then remember that Kreacher can return.

I use the Patronus Charm and several other spells to stall for time. I try looking for the boat, conjuring a boat, Transfiguring an object into a boat.

Nothing works. And still, the Inferi advance. Their ranks seem to increase as time ticks by. I have no idea what to do next.

Crack!

"Kreacher!" I yell, surprised. I grab the house-elf, as if assuring myself he's real.

"Yes, Master, I came back like you said."

"Good, good. Take me home! Apparate me back to Grimmauld Place."

Kreacher doesn't waste time. But when he tries to Apparate, this time he's blocked.

"Master," he quivers, "Master, it not working."

I dissolve into a puddle of tears. I know now what I need to do. "Kreacher," I say. He turns to look at me. "Is it safe?"

Kreacher nods, "Yes, Master. I hide it well."

"Very good, Kreacher. Now, listen carefully to what I'm about to tell you. Will you make the Unbreakable Vow with me?"

Kreacher nods again. "Yes, Master, if you so wish."

"Make the Unbreakable Vow that you will not tell any immediate member of the Black family, specifically not Mum or Sirius, about this night."

With sad eyes spilling over with tears, Kreacher nods and holds my hand. The golden-white light surrounds us for a brief second, then fades away, leaving us stunned. When I regain my voice, my hand slips out of Kreacher's grip.

"Good, Kreacher. Now go home. Go home and tell them, if they ask, that I have vanished. Possibly perished while performing deeds for the Dark Lord. Do not say anything about where you've been. If they ask, say you've been cleaning house for me. No one is to use my room for five years, understand? I want you to have this, too." I pull out a weather-beaten book from the pocket in my robes. "This is my journal. My diary." I blush as I say those last two words. "It's yours now, to do with as you like. Keep me in your memory. Not the Death Eater me. The real me. Reg, the skinny shy kid who loves his brother and house-elf more than anything in the world." My eyes are shining as I give this last speech.

Kreacher shakily accepts my final gift before giving me the biggest hug I've ever received. It lightens my heart, allowing me to let him go.

"Go, Kreacher!" I shout. Several Inferi sprint towards us. I brandish my wand.

When I hear the crack!, I give myself up to Death, greeting him with a smile and a nod. Kreacher is safe. My family will be protected. I've done my part by replacing the locket-horcrux. I've one-upped the Dark Lord. The last thing I see is Sirius placing his arm around me. Big brother, I think, I've done what you would have done, but unlike you, I'm no hero. Remember me, won't you? Remember...

Sirius smiles at some joke as he walks with me.

I laugh maniacally, a sound only heard in Death's realm. I am no longer among the living.


End file.
